


Unsullied

by GraarPlacemat



Series: Zombies Are Gross [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-28
Updated: 2014-11-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 08:03:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2685356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraarPlacemat/pseuds/GraarPlacemat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's so little beauty left in the world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unsullied

**Author's Note:**

> Alright! Here's Wash, then. I'm having fun with this AU, I hope you are too. :)

North liked the park. After seven years of living life the way he had, it made him happy to see a place that was virtually unchanged from the days of normalcy. He knew that the leaders of his organization, the Freelancers, had fought tooth and nail for it to be protected the way it was. He didn’t know why - he knew hardly anything about his boss’s motivations - but he appreciated it, appreciated this one little spot of living beauty.

Normally, he would come alone and leave Teddy at home or at the office with Delta. York would be on a mission that seemed, always, to take place during North’s off-time from his own assignments. North didn’t mind - he used the time to decompress. Today, however, York had had the time to come with him, and North had gladly allowed it.

The park wasn’t big, nor was it well-trimmed; while they did try to keep up appearances, the fact was that park beautification wasn’t high on the survival to-do list. Still, North liked the naturalness of it, and as he walked side-by-side with York, the two quietly took in their surroundings.

“It’s like Red Island, but with better paths and fewer gunshots,” York quipped, grinning steadily. North chuckled warmly at the statement.

As they kept walking, they began to hear an oddly familiar sound, repeated, and slowly getting louder. North frowned and York let out a “hmm” of confusion.

“That’s not a  _dog_ , is it?” he finally asked, and North just shrugged in wonder.

“If it is, I’m definitely gonna regret not bringing Teddy. I don’t know that he even remembers them.”

The noise came again, even closer, and it was certain; they were hearing something barking. There was laughter, too, and a voice, but all North could think about was the fact that a near-extinct animal was coming their way.

Several yards in front of them, a frisbee - dear god, did those actually still exist? - shot out from within a side path, closely followed by a bounding, smiling, slobbering golden mutt that was clearly very happy to be where it was. It leapt into the air, caught the frisbee, and landed, turning as if to return to its owner. Instead, it caught sight of them and bounded closer.

“Holy fuck, it is,” York breathed, and suddenly he launched himself toward the dog, arms wide, grinning from ear to ear. North, feeling a smile spread over his own features, jogged after him.

“Hey, Lonnie, where -?” shouted a new voice, stopping North in his tracks even as York met with the dog and bent down to its level, allowing it to slobber all over his face.

“Oh my god, North, dogs are everything I remember them being, c’mere -”

“York,” North warned, and then the owner came out from the same path the dog had, panting, wide-eyed, and energetic.

He was well-dressed, North noticed, and his hair was dyed blond. He had freckles. Looking at him gave him the feeling of going back in time, to when he was in high school and survival wasn’t the first thing on his mind. This kid - because he hardly looked as old as North felt - must have been one of the few fortunate civilians who had grown up with relatives on the inside and never seen somebody ripped apart by the infected, never had to camp out in a warehouse because it was the only safe option available.

Everyone North knew had scars, and yet this person was unsullied.

“Oh, hey, there you are,” panted the stranger. “Hey, Lonnie, who’s this?”

North was frozen.

“Oh, sorry,” York laughed, having to push the dog off to hold a hand out to its owner, “I’m York, this is North. Not our real names, of course, but you know the drill.”

“Yeah,” the stranger agreed. “Yeah, I do. I’m Wash.”

North felt vaguely sick.

York was looking at him, frowning. “Hey, North, are you okay? You’re looking pale.”

He forced a smile. “I’m fine. Nice to meet you, Wash. I’m sure my son would love to see your dog.”

Wash let out a laugh. His face was beautiful.

And somehow, North was already terrified of that beauty being lost.


End file.
